


the first chapter

by actualmuseofspace



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Tomorrow there'll be more of us, hamilton stays, hamilton the family man, no Reynolds affair, overuse of musical lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-03-27 11:06:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13879566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualmuseofspace/pseuds/actualmuseofspace
Summary: “Let this moment be the first chapter,” and Hamilton decides to stay. He’s never had a family, but this, them, it can (it will, it has to) be enough.





	1. act one

**Author's Note:**

> "That Would Be Enough", "History Has Its Eyes On You", "The World Turned Upside Down", "Dear Theodosia", "Tomorrow There'll Be More of Us"

_1\. the first chapter (Hamilton decides to stay.)_

"How long have you known?" Eliza's face is radiant, and Hamilton imagines his must be the same. He never thought he would get to have a son. He never thought that someone would fall in love with him like this.

"A month or so."

"Eliza...you should've told me." He doesn't say, "I would've come home, so I could be with you," but he wants to. If he could be sure he meant it. Eliza keeps talking. He realises that she thinks he would've kept fighting, even if he knew. He's actually not sure on that point.

"-was done."

"The war's not done," he echoes, miserably, gleefully.

"You deserve a chance to meet your son." He laughs. Neither of them really know, not yet. He laughs, going sour at the edges. He cannot support a family.

"Will you relish being a poor man's wife?" If he leaves his war, he leaves his legacy.

"I relish being your wife." She smiles at him and rests her hand over his. Because his Betsey has always been able to read his mind, she adds, "We don't need a legacy." He opens his mouth, but she's not done. "We don't need money."

"I'll be a poor man," he protests. "Unable to provide for your life." It sounds weak. It sounds like falling in love.

"I'm not afraid. I know who I married. Please, Alexander, let this moment be the first chapter."

Hamilton decides to stay.

 

 _2\. this moment on (Hamilton knows he will have to make this choice a million times.)_  

Washington tells him, "You have no control," and if he weren't his commanding officer, if it were Burr or Laurens or Lafayette, Hamilton would laugh, and not let the line go. Hamilton doesn't need Washington to tell him he has no control. He already knows that. He has made his own control.

Washington isn't done, though. "I was younger than you when I was given command."

Hamilton bites a retort, bites back his life story, bites back that he's exceeded the years he thought he would be lucky to have.

"I lead my men straight into a massacre." That much is a surprise, even if it doesn't show on Hamilton's face. Washington has never failed. Every battle they fight is a victory.

Hamilton offers what he can to Washington. “History has its eyes on you.”

Washington’s response is written in the building lines in his face. “You are young. You dream of glory.” But Hamilton has found his glory. His glory is Eliza, his glory is their son, his glory is waiting for him. Hamilton has found his glory. What’s left is his legacy.

“I know that greatness lies within you - I know that we could win.” Washington’s words are full of pride. He stands from the chair at his desk for the first time. Lee’s sword has lain on Washington’s desk since his resignation. Hamilton tries not to dream it could come to him. He can't stop dreaming, but when he remembers Eliza, it's a little easier.

"I have no control who lives," Washington says. "I have no control who dies." Hamilton knows that the best thing Washington can do for Hamilton, for his family, is to hand him command. The British are set in their ways. They won't shoot officers, even if they would be better for it.

"But I know we can win." Hamilton doesn't hesitate in taking it. Not for himself. For Eliza. For their family.

Hamilton knows he will have to make this choice a million times.

 

_3\. expecting me (Hamilton will make his way back because it's what he knows how to do.)_

Lafayette's first words are, "In command where you belong!" Hamilton smiles, and they hug. How could he forget how his friends pestered Washington every day, even after he had given up on the idea?

But it's been too long since he's heard from Eliza for him to be proud of himself.

"We've had quite a run," he admits. "But hey-"

"Immigrants! We get the job done." Lafayette joins him in the familiar phrase. It started when Laurens and Mulligan realised they were both married, Lafayette with children and Hamilton with his son on the way. Under the context of war, it's turned itself into so much more.

Lafayette has to go, of course. They all have their parts to play. Hamilton has practically woven the plan into his skin. It's a good plan. It needs to be a good plan. His Eliza is expecting him.

Hamilton will make his way back because it's what he knows how to do.

 

_4\. the morning sun (Hamilton has never been blown away like this.)_

When Phillip is born, he is so tiny Hamilton is afraid to hold him. But Eliza, Hamilton's Betsey, doesn't seem afraid. She sits Hamilton down in the chair by her bed and passes over their son.

_Their son._

Phillip is a wonder, a miracle Hamilton never believed he could get to see. He's so small he doesn't even make a noise when Eliza slips him into Hamilton's arms, barely opens his eyes to blink aimlessly. His face is scrunched in something that could almost be a smile, and Hamilton falls apart.

His eyes can't focus, can't understand Hamilton's face. It's probably for the best, Hamilton would hate for Phillip's first memory of him to be a teary mess.

"Alex," Eliza says. Normally when she says his name, it's cautionary and warning, but right now he hears her exhaustion and her adoration and he is _holding their son_.

"I'll make the world safe and sound for you," he whispers, voice broken. "I'll be around for you." Phillip makes the tiniest sound, gurgling that couldn't possibly be mistaken for language.

He hurts to pass his son back to Eliza, but she grabs his hand. "We'll give the world to you," she says. "Your father has bled and fought for you."

His dearest, his Betsey, is exhausted and beautiful. His son is so small Hamilton can't believe he can hold him. He already outshines the morning sun.

Hamilton has never been blown away like this.

 

_5\. left to do (Hamilton's world shakes.)_

When the letter comes, Hamilton can't read it. He can't do anything but pass it to Eliza. The woman is a blessing, but her hands shake when she smooths out the paper. Hamilton never asks her to open his mail. Reads it with her plenty, but he prefers to do the first pass himself.

Her voice shakes because it's addressed by John's father. Her voice shakes because everyone loves John Laurens. Laurens who writes letter after letter to all of the Hamiltons, even to Phillip who he's never met. Her voice shakes, because John Laurens is the one who writes letter after letter to Alexander about his dreams, his plans, and Hamilton read them all to Eliza. Her voice shakes.

They all love John, but now they have to say they loved him like their love is as dead as he is. Hamilton never thought he would have to face the world without Laurens by his side.

John's father says, "His dream of freedom for these men dies with him."

Eliza sits down.

Hamilton thinks about the family he's made, the life he's built.

John's father says, "The war was already over,"

Eliza puts the letter down.

Hamilton remembers the way Laurens laughed. Hamilton remembers when they would sit, still plotting their revolution, laughing away Burr's hushing. Hamilton remembers that they had all known they wouldn't live to see the freedom they fought for. Hamilton remembers when Washington cautioned him away from war, and he said, echoing his dearest friend, that he would gladly join the fight. Hamilton _remembers_.

Hamilton's world shakes.


	2. act two (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Take a Break", "Say No to This", "The Room Where it Happens", "One Last Time", "Hurricane", "Burn

  _6. a real job (Hamilton knows that he will have to make this choice a million times.)_ 

"Run away with us for the summer,"

"I can't, there's so much to do," A tear runs down Eliza's cheek. Before she can stop, he brushes it away with his thumb. "Maybe...maybe I can talk to Washington, come away for half." She doesn't smile, but when he puts his forehead against hers, he doesn't see anymore tears.

They don't talk about it anymore. She teaches Phillip how to play piano, and he's horrible at it, his mixed melodies drifting up to his office. Every time Hamilton goes downstairs, he's greeted with the latest product of continual schooling, a much fought over melody fraught with dissonance that seems familial.

Eventually, though, Angelica comes down, and he must face the product of his choices. She's never been afraid to speak her mind, and her courage brings color to Eliza's face as they speak a hushed argument.

"John Adams spends the summer with his family," protests Eliza.

"And I would love to, but John Adams doesn't have a real job. Anyway, we agreed - just this summer, love, and then I'm yours."

Eliza's face is hard, but not cold. Angelica has been an ocean away, hasn't had to watch them make these choices.

Hamilton knows he will have to make this choice a million times.

 

  _7. help me (Hamilton thought he knew how to be alone.)_

In his letters to Eliza, Hamilton is as brief as can be expected from him. Burr, who still works next door, seems infuriatingly pleased that they are both stuck in the sweltering city over summer, but Hamilton craves relief.

Eliza and Angelica both write back letters of equal length, telling him about what Phillip is doing and how  _ wonderful _ the lake is and how much they wish he was here. He tells them the same thing.

He does not mention how Maria Reynolds comes into his office, begging for his assistance. He doesn't mention how long it takes for him to realise she's interested in starting an affair. He doesn't mention how she says, "Please," and he has to pray to the Lord to help him say no.

It takes every ounce of his will to still smile at her, say, "We can't, I have a wife, I'm sorry."

She says, "Help me, please, I'm sorry, I need-"

"I know, Mrs. Reynolds. Why don't I introduce you to my colleague, Mr. Burr." He stands up from his desk, fetches the twenty dollars he promised her, and walks her out of his office.

Burr takes one look at things, and barely smiles before ushering Maria into his office.

"I hope, Alexander, that this is not what it looks like."

"I suppose that depends on what it looks like," Hamilton says. "But I can assure you, I simply feel your talents might be better suited to this case." Burr nods minutely. "She has twenty dollars, I can reimburse you-"

"Really, Hamilton? A case like this begs pro bono."

"Thank you, Burr." Then Hamilton goes back to office, sits back in his desk chair, and rests his head in his hands.

Hamilton thought he knew how to be alone.

 

  _8. over dinner (Hamilton will not fall out of touch with his love.)_

The subtle game they're playing drives him crazy. Every night, he comes home and complains to Eliza. She reminds him every morning how important it is, how well he's doing, and he thinks it must be worth it, to come home to his family every night.

Still, everyone wants a piece of him. Madison wants the capital from him, Jefferson wants to remove him, and Burr wants to be him. He comes home, and his children want to play with him, and Angelica wants more letters from him, and Washington wants more from him.

On the late nights, when it's just him and Jefferson in a room, arguing the same endless debate with no one around to hear it, he wonders if this is why politicians always fall into scandals. No one wants to take a scandal from you.

On the late nights, when he has to cut things off with Burr too sharply, and he stares out at New York City and wonders if he could relinquish his city for his banks, and Eliza is asleep when he gets home, he wonders if this is why he wants Phillip to go into law. At least when he was a lawyer he could choose who he gave himself over to.

His dearest Eliza is more brilliant than she gives herself credit for. Washington tells him to go home early one night, and he listens. Eliza is waiting for him.

"The children are with the Mulligans." She takes his hand. “Come sit with me, we can talk over dinner.” There’s no one else in the room.

Hamilton will not fall out of touch with his love.

 

__ 9\. learn to move on (Hamilton thought he knew how to let go.) _ _

"I know you're busy," says Washington. Hamilton wants terribly to laugh, but this moment seems like it's going to be a reprimand. "But I wanted to give you a word of warning. Thomas Jefferson resigned this morning."

Hamilton's in a form of shock.

"You're kidding."

Washington shakes his head. "I need a favor," he starts, and Hamilton's mind is running and running and running.

"Jefferson will pay for his behavior. I have a pseudonym, I can write to the press-" He trails off when he sees the look on Washington's face.

"Son, I need you to draft a different kind of address. He's going to run for president," and he finishes before Hamilton can raise his voice in protest, "and I'm not going to run again."

"What?"

"I need you to draft an address, to the public. I'm not running again."

An America without Washington leading it feels as painful and foreign as Hamilton without Eliza by his side.

"But, you can't, sir, the people need you."

"No, they need to learn how to move on. What happens if I lead until my death, and they never learn how to pick a leader? We'd have fought a war for nought." Hamilton knows that Washington is right, that's why he picks up a pen.

The words he writes are honest, faithful. Washington must have planned this, because even for a draft, it's eloquent and clean and inspiring. Hamilton doesn't want it to be, he wants it to be erratic and unclear and hateable. 

But Washington says, "I have committed many errors and ask the public now to view them with indulgence," so how could Hamilton not?

A final goodbye on paper seems so much cleaner than every other goodbye Hamilton has weathered, and that angers him.

Hamilton thought he knew how to let go.

 

_ 10\. there is quiet (Hamilton listens to Eliza breath.) _

He doesn’t know what he could have expected. He has built his life from his befores and afters. Before Eliza. After the hurricane. Before his mother. After Phillip. He has always understood that nothing should cross those boundaries.

Now, he lies awake, wondering why people can’t understand that. Can’t seem to let go where he came from. (He knows how they know, but wishes he didn’t.)

Now, he lies awake, and his memories transgress their vassals, filling up a space he thought he had carved for just him and Eliza.

Eliza, dearest Betsey, doesn’t notice. She’s not unobservant, she’s just asleep, lacking the capacity to distinguish between his exhaustion from fighting with Jefferson and his exhaustion from something else.

He knows that she must know. But they have so few quiet moments, it feels treasonous to pollute such a quiet place. So he lets the press devour the petty statements, holds Eliza close to him, and does his best to let her hold his edges in.

Hamilton listens to Eliza breath.

 

_ 11\. cathedrals (Hamilton thought he knew how to be alone.)\ _

 Eliza goes to England. She wants to see Angelica, she says. She doesn't take the children, and Hamilton waves goodbye with Philip on his shoulders.

"I just need some time," she says. "I just need some space."

He doesn't say, "Don't go," even though he wants to.

Now, he takes Philip home and he sleeps in his bed that feels empty. He can’t do it, not without Eliza.

His office beckons him, so he sleeps there instead.

He’s given up on keeping personal relics out of it, because once you have children they leach into everything. Philip has tacked poems up to the walls, and Eliza’s letters rest in his drawer.

Eliza said she just needed some space, some time away from the politics and constant battles and stress. Hamilton wishes he could take a break.

He still can’t sleep, so he pulls out the creased pages, scans over her responses. For as much as she commends his writing, she has a certain knack, a certain ear for turns of phrase that make her writing elegant, definitive, beautiful. It's like her, in that.

She says, "You flatter me, conjuring cathedrals out of paragraphs as such." His response was something along the lines of, "You deserve palaces." Now, they serve a comfort that she loves him, really.

He doesn't get much sleep.

Hamilton thought he knew how to be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter should be up by the end of the month.


	3. act two (part two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Blow Us All Away", "It's Quiet Uptown", "The Election of 1800", "Best of Wives and Women", "The World Was Wide Enough", "Who Lives Who Dies Who Tells Your Story"

 

_12\. as my pops (Hamilton thought Phillip would be better than him.)_

 

Phillip asks him for help in his office because he knows his mother will never come into his father's office. He doesn't know what to do, the panic is clear, written on his face, his rushing words.

"Okay," Hamilton says because it's all he can say. "This is what we're going to do." He walks his son through each step of the duel.

Hamilton remembers how small Phillip was when he was born. His eyes are so bright, he is filled with so much love - too much, if Eliza is to be believed, and she always is. He has dreamed far beyond what Hamilton has been able to lay out for him.

Phillip has always been brilliant, and Hamilton has always done everything he can to foster it, encourage it, direct it into the young man who stands in front of him now. Of course, you can't shape someone without leaving an imprint on them, and Hamilton now sees his own flaws carved into the surface of that which makes him Phillip.

Hamilton thought Phillip would be better than him.

 

 

_13\. the unimaginable (Hamilton doesn't know how he'd get through this if he were alone.)_

 

Eliza's pain magnifies his own. He watches her cry, and he wishes he could take it all away from her. He knows nothing he can do that will end it.

He takes it one day, one precious breath, at a time. When his world has been plunged into freezing water again, it is all he knows how to do.

Like a baby learning to walk, he stumbles over memories as he packs their things, and finds himself fallen over something he had once forgotten.

He moves them uptown, far away from what Phillip had known, but the pain is still there - Phillip is still there, Eliza is still gone. He leaves the house, walks up and down the city. Phillip's poems are committed to his memory, they always have been.

He takes the children to church with him. He never brought up religion inside the walls of their home. He doesn't know if Phillip is still waiting, so he prays every day for him. It's never happened before.

He invites Eliza out with him every morning. She says no most of the time, but it's enough to hear her voice.

Hamilton doesn't know how he'd get through this if he were alone.

 

 

_14\. on your side (Hamilton knows Eliza will never leave him.)_

 

Still, they drag him back. It's a painful thing, and he claws at the door, but he can't stop forever. The world, whatever small part of it, has come to depend on Alexander Hamilton.

Burr and Jefferson are running for office, both of them equally horrible candidates. They beg for his support, and he can’t give it. Eliza reads over the newspapers to see how their campaigns are going, and he starts to re-open his practice. He was always more suited to law than politics anyway.

His party is crumbling with no clear leaders, but he can’t drag himself back to that role, so he lets Eliza throw every letter pleading him return away. He can’t think farther than today most of the time.

At first, he’s so inundated with clients he finds himself longing for the days of struggling to find one case he would be paid well for. He finds the rejection of cases easy - he has no desire to defend those who think he will bring them sway in court. Instead, he takes on a slew of pro bono cases already rejected. People start leaving him alone.

They ask for his opinion, try to drag his participation back. It feels inevitable when Burr and Jefferson tie, but Eliza helps him draft the last piece of himself he can give to the public. She doesn't bring it up when they finish.

Hamilton knows Eliza will never leave him.

 

 

_15\. best of women (Hamilton doesn't know how to leave.)_

 

He's always valued his honour. Eliza watched him worry his opinion on Burr and Jefferson, watched him struggle over who he'd rather elect. He stands by his decision.

Eliza stood by him for everything, and he promised he wouldn't hurt her. But in standing by his decision - in the honour that he told Phillip to have - he's found himself somewhere he can't back out of.

When he wakes up, willing to pay the price, so does she, because Eliza has always been on his side.

"Come back to sleep," she begs, and he wishes he could abide her.

"I have an early meeting, I'll be back before you know I'm gone." She makes no immediate response, and so he imagines she must have fallen back asleep.

"Alexander?"

"Yes?"

"I love you,"

"I love you," he echoes. "Best of wives; best of women." He doesn’t move for more breaths than he can count. He can see her even asleep, see the echoes of her wonder.

Hamilton doesn't know how to leave.

 

 

_16\. great unfinished symphony (Hamilton has never been able to end things properly.)_

 

Hamilton has almost died three times. Each time has been surrounded by water. A birth. A storm. An ocean crossing.

Today, it's clear. Still, he finds a watery silence surrounding him.

His mother's face has never been clear in his memory. He doesn't remember her voice, but he remembers that she held him. Always tight, like she knew he would lose her and she had to sink in deep to stay in his memory. He hasn't held Eliza tight enough, he never held Phillip tight enough.

Someone is holding him now, moving him. Their voices don't drift past the surface of the waves.

John Laurens, his best friend. In the war, their fear and passion and everything drifted together. His letters always maintained it, Hamilton always reflected it. John Laurens, his dream is not done yet. Hamilton can't be done yet.

Eliza, Hamilton knows she's there, but he can't make himself hear her yet. Where has Burr gone?

He's messed up. He's ruined something. Burr was his first friend. How did he get here? How did he forget what he was doing? How lost is he?

Eliza says, "It's okay. I'm here."

Hamilton thinks, "I have so much to do."

Hamilton has never been able to end things properly.

 

 

_17\. time (Eliza has always been able to finish what her husband starts.)_

 

When the world mourns, Eliza moves forward. Not on, just keeps going. Angelica moves in with her, keeping her company, but Eliza doesn't depend on anything.

Her husband was filled with dreams for the world. He leaves her pages of wishes and dreams and barely legible writing that she forces herself to read until she doesn't have to force herself anymore.

When people see her, their pity is evident. She doesn't let it bother her. She raises money for the Washington Monument. She finds every single soldier he fought with and interviews them, afraid another will die without anyone to tell their story.

She still has time. She still has what he never had enough of. She cries silent tears at the empty years that keep stretching out in front of her.

She campaigns for the abolition of slavery. Her actions and deeds aren't enough. She can't finish all of his dreams. Angelica sits at their table late into the night with her, promising that she has done enough.

She looks out into the city of New York. She reads his letters, not the ones to her, but to everyone else.

Alexander Hamilton never had anyone to look after him. Eliza looks out into the city of New York and wants that for no other child.

When she finds herself growing weak, her children, all of her children, tell her she has been enough.

Eliza has always been able to finish what her husband starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And fin. (Yes, I cried at the end. Many times.)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. If you notice any grammatical or formatting errors, don't hesitate to let me know.
> 
> Currently, the next thing I plan to publish is from the musical Fame. Give it a listen if you haven't - it's a little old, but I loved it.
> 
> _22/8/17:_ Fixed formatting and chapter titles.


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